


The Ghosts of Christmas

by MissSuzeH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Inspired by A Christmas Carol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSuzeH/pseuds/MissSuzeH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is reading her favourite Christmas story and finds her own dreams haunted by the ghosts of the past, the present and the future...all in the guise of one man Lucius Malfoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of festive fluff is the only way I can describe this. I hope you enjoy it. As ever apologies for any errors grammatical or otherwise.

Hermione Granger’s big brown eyes began to slowly drift closed, she forced them open and continued to read…………

_“No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before; he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses_.”

The ghost of Jacob Marley haunting Ebenezer Scrooge. Hermione had read this book every Christmas for as long as she could remember, as a child, one or other of her parents had read Charles Dickens’ story to her. This was the first Christmas she had ever spent alone, but she wouldn’t allow it to change any of her traditions. 

It her been her choice to remain at Hogwarts over Christmas. After a rather acrimonious break up with Ron, mainly over her decision to return to school, she didn’t feel like spending the holiday at the Burrow trying to avoid him and any further confrontation.  Molly and Arthur, as well as Ginny and Harry had tried their level best to persuade her otherwise, but Hermione had dug in her heels. Politely but firmly declining their invitation. She knew full well, her excuse, that she had fallen behind and had revision to catch up on, was viewed with cynicism and disbelief by one and all. After several further attempts to change her mind and several more, polite refusals, they all gave up, and thankfully left her be. Thus Hermione found herself curled up on one of the large leather sofa’s in the Gryffindor common room. The room shrouded in blissful quiet, the air permeated only with the crackling and popping of the blazing fire. The enormous Castle all but deserted, save half a dozen or so pupils, mainly Slytherin’s, who remained for the holiday’s and a skeleton staff, to look after them and the school. 

Hermione heard the clock in the common room chime midnight, she opened her heavy lidded eyes once more, finding herself looking into a very familiar face.

“And you must be Miss Granger.” The disdainful sneer on the aristocratic face of Lucius Malfoy appraised her derisively.

The recently appointed Defence Against the Dark Art Master looked somehow different, younger than he had done in Hermione’s final lesson before the holiday’s started.  He might look different but that didn’t explain, the also, now Head of Slytherin House’s presence in the Gryffindor common room. The nerve of the man, Hermione thought as she struggled to sit up.  His intimidating presence, shrinking the size of the room. His mesmerizing blue grey eyes almost hypnotising the young witch.

“Draco’s told me all about you……”

Hermione shook her head, her brow creasing in a frown. What on earth was the man talking about? Of course he knew he she was. Yes, Draco had told his father all about her, about her Muggle parents, that was years ago. Had he been at the egg nog or the Firewhisky, it was Christmas after all.  As he leaned closer to her, Hermione could feel his warm breath against her cheek, but there was no scent of alcohol. His mellifluous blond hair tumbled forward and the only scent she was engulfed in, was one of his spicy and heady cologne, cinnamon, mingled with sandalwood and something else she couldn’t place, all of them diminished by the pure overwhelming masculinity of the Dark Wizard who loomed overwhelmingly close.   

The haunting and ominous image of Lucius Malfoy lingered before Hermione. She had never really paid Draco’s father much attention, even in the classroom, he was simply another Professor. Prior to him taking up his post at Hogwarts, she had only ever encountered him on three, possibly four previous occasions.  A thoroughly unpleasant man. A pureblood supremacist who viewed anyone of lesser lineage with condescension, just as he had done at their very first meeting in Flourish & Blotts. Hermione’s skin bristled at the recollection, flushing at the memory of that same intense stare, that now pierced her very soul.  He bullied his son mercilessly, using the Malfoy name to get whatever he wanted. As a threat.

A man clearly broken by Azkaban. An utter coward, who allowed little more than a child, to be tortured in his own home, as he simply stood by and watched unemotionally. Hermione’s skin crawled at the recollection, her stomach churning violently as the events at Malfoy Manor, once more invaded her mind. Hermione had always refused to be intimidated by either, the man himself or the name, not then and certainly not now. A wave of trepidation raced through her body, at what would bring this hateful man to her at this late hour.

“Fear……..” She began. The previously used phrase she was about to use, seeming to echo oddly around the silent tower.  The word was met with a further derisive sneer on the cruel mouth of the imposing man.

“Of a name, increases fear of the thing itself.” Lucius Malfoy completed the sentence for her, slowly and articulately in that clipped aristocratic tone of his. “But of course it does my dear.”

His cold blue grey eyes not leaving her for a single moment.  “Are you afraid of me Miss Granger?” His question was delivered with equal deliberation, his velvety tones, softly menacing, but commanding every bit of her attention.  Both mind and body. The room seeming to shrink still further with his imperious and threatening presence.

Hermione all but dragged her gaze from the curl of his lip, to the glittering slate intensity of his eyes. Still she refused to be intimidated. She was a grown woman now, a senior, not some 12-year-old second year.  Something Hermione was all too well aware of at this moment and for all of the _wrong_ reasons. Despite the fire in her eyes and in her belly, which mixed with another unknown emotion, Hermione found words failing her. Only able to shake her head in response, a response which was met with a mocking smile and hollow laughter, which did not reach the piercing blue grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

“You should be …….” He said, his nostrils flaring, a dark blonde brow arching slightly.

His hushed words sent a bolt of fear coursing through Hermione’s veins. The warm breath which once again fanned her cheek, sent a far more potent emotion careering through the young witch. Her heart beat so fast, it reverberated in her ears. Her body tingled and pulsed, acutely aware of the Dark Wizard’s ever close proximity. Hermione closed her eyes, trying desperately to steady her nerves and calm her somewhat shallow breathing. She opened them to speak. Other than herself, the Gryffindor common room was empty. The only warmth against her face, emanated from the fire which burned brightly in the huge fireplace.  Hermione glanced around the room, she was completely alone. The book remained open in her lap, she must have finally drifted off to sleep with the heat from the fire. She laughed to herself…… Lucius Malfoy the ghost of Christmas Past, that would be right. Odd that she should dream of him of all people.

Hearing the clock chime once more, this time 1am Hermione realised it was now officially Christmas morning, she really should get some sleep, but there was no reason to get up early in the morning. Perhaps just one more chapter, still smiling to herself, Hermione returned to the Dickensian text.

_"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know me better…….!"_

A gentle rustling sound drew Hermione’s attention once more from the pages of her book. Glancing up, she again found herself drawn into the mesmerising blue grey gaze of Lucius Malfoy.  His presence illuminated by the gentle glow from the roaring fire, giving him a positively ethereal appearance. His trademark platinum blond hair shining almost halo like about his head and shoulders. His dark robes a stark contrast against the pallor of his skin. He leaned on his serpent headed cane, the polished silver shining like it’s master’s hair in the light from the fire. Its emerald eyes glittering with the same green intensity as it’s master blue.

With the exception of the Headmaster or these days Headmistress of Hogwarts, apparition was not permitted within the grounds of the school. However, as a former Death Eater, like Severus Snape, Hermione was certain the latest incumbent of the Defence Against the Dark Arts position was able to do just that. How else could he have appeared with such stealth and without a sound?

Hermione glanced around the room, everything was just as before, nothing had changed or was out of place, except of course for the tall imposing presence of the Head of Slytherin House in the Gryffindor common room. Overwhelming curiosity got the better of any apprehension that Hermione felt.  It was odd, but she felt no sense of anger at his presence.

“Why are you here Professor?” She asked, trying to hide the trepidation in her voice.

A faint smile quirked the lips of the tall blonde who stood unmoving by the fireplace. Hermione found her gaze, once again drawn to his mouth. A mouth that softened, all be it slightly by mirth genuine or otherwise, and was incredibly sensual.  She found her own mouth suddenly very dry and she swallowed hard, licking her lips.

“It is Christmas Miss Granger, peace on earth and goodwill to _all_ men.”

A small elegant movement of his long fingers caused Hermione’s gaze to drift somewhat begrudgingly from his mouth. A well-manicured hand toying the vicious looking snake head entranced Hermione. His dulcet tones ones more pulling her big brown eyes up to meet his.

“We have peace, I was hoping that the goodwill to _all men,_ might include me.”

His face was unreadable, but Hermione swore she saw his eyes twinkle wickedly. An odd little frisson danced along her spine, it fluttered into her belly and burned low and hot. Just what sort of _goodwill_ did Lucius Malfoy have in mind.  The little voice of her conscious was horrified, and Hermione banished the treacherous thought from her head immediately. Her body however seemed a little reluctant to let it go quite so quickly.

They were both spending Christmas away from home, from loved ones, they were both alone.  Why the former Death Eater would wish any goodwill from her, Hermione couldn’t begin to imagine, but it would be churlish to be uncharitable at this time of year. The odd sensation burning low in Hermione’s stomach and her dry mouth had little to do with the time of year, or charitable thoughts.

“As you say Professor Malfoy, it is Christmas. I am sure I could bestow a little goodwill in your direction.”

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, the words sounding a lot more suggestive out loud than they had in her head.

If Lucius Malfoy noticed any double entendre, it was not reflected in either his demeanour or his words. He remained by the fire. Motionless save the infinitesimal movement of his fingers on his cane.

 “In truth Miss Granger, I doubt I deserve either your time or your goodwill. But it would appear fate has decreed that we spend Christmas alone.” He paused briefly.

Hermione saw him take a breath before his clipped tones ones more filled the hushed room.

“I would like to put the past behind us. I would like for you to know me better.”

He paused once more and Hermione noticed his grip on the cane tighten, his knuckles whitened with the action.  His grey blue eyes searched her face, he was waiting for her to respond. Hermione’s mouth was parched, she feared no words would come out when she opened it to speak.

“I would like that.” She heard a firm, clear female voice drift across the space between them and realised it was her own. Perhaps it was the season, the circumstances, but for some reason she did want to put the past where it belonged, in the past. And for some even stranger reason, Hermione did want to know Lucius Malfoy better.

The fire gave a loud crackle, the flames jumping in the hearth, Hermione’s gaze was drawn to the grate.  Flickering red and yellow it was as mesmerising as the man standing……….the room was once more empty. Hermione’s eyes were tired from reading, the book still remained open in her lap. Surely she hadn’t drifted off to sleep again, only to dream once more of Lucius Malfoy.  Clearly her subconscious was mixing the book, with her day in slumber. Her last lesson had been Defence Against the Dark Arts, but she wasn’t dreaming about her Professor, she was dreaming about Lucius Malfoy the man.  She really had to put down the book and go to bed, the clock on the mantle chimed 2am. As if to remind her of the lateness of the hour, and that she really should be tucked up in her bed.  She only had a chapter or so left, it really wouldn’t take too long to read…………..

_"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?" said Scrooge._

_The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its hand._

_"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"_

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t dressed in his usual immaculate robes. He looked as he had done the last time Hermione had seen him prior to him becoming a professor at Hogwarts. His silky blonde hair was lank, grey and dirty. The smooth alabaster skin on his face was marred by dark stubbly growth, his general appearance was one of a vagrant, unkempt and uncaring.  His face was gaunt. Those beautiful grey blue eyes, were tired and red rimmed. His sensual mouth was downcast, the lips that normally looked so soft, were cracked and dry.  He had no cane and his elegant well-manicured hands were filthy, the nails chipped, the skin sore.  Hermione tried to reach out to him, find out what had happened, but he was beyond her reach. His name fell silently from her mouth, although her lungs felt they would burst she called so loudly to him.  He walked towards the fireplace, this time it wasn’t the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.  A chill raced up her spine, nausea rose in her throat as she slowly recognised it. The huge empty stone hearth was the one at Malfoy Manor, in the room where Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her.  The house was seemed colder and more foreboding than ever.  Lucius threw a glass into the grate, seeming to stagger slightly with the action.  Hermione didn’t want to be here, she knew now she must have fallen asleep whilst reading and simply needed to wake herself up, but she couldn’t.  She watched helplessly as Lucius moved back across the room. Retrieving another glass, he decanted himself a hefty Firewhisky, downed the amber liquid in one go and replenished the glass with more of the strong alcohol.

“I had a second chance and I threw it all away…...again.” His slurred voice faded away as he spoke to a painting which dominated one wall.

Hermione peered harder, through sluggish movements. She wanted desperately to wake up, but she also wanted to know how this had come about. She couldn’t stand seeing Lucius like this again. Why, she didn’t know. She didn’t recognise the person in the painting, but from the resemblance he bore to Lucius himself she guessed it was an ancestor.

“You are a disgrace to the name Malfoy, I am ashamed to call you my son.”

Lucius drained his glass once more and slumped down into a chair, running his hands through his tangled unwashed locks.

“This is your fault.” Lucius addressed the portrait scathingly. “I loved her……she never knew.”

“She was a Mudblood!” The blonde image in the portrait spat back at the distraught and inebriated Lucius. “You are a Malfoy. You……”

“Enough” The Dark Wizard’s harsh tones cut through the air.  “I should have just told her, if she turned me down then so be it. It would have been no more than I deserved after what I did, what I allowed to happen, here in this very room.” He cast his arm about the cold empty room.

“But look at me now, I have nothing all because of you, because of you and the precious Malfoy name. I threw it all away rather than have the courage to go against you and just tell her. I lost everything, except this mausoleum of a house.” Lucius rose unsteadily from the chair and threw the heavy crystal tumbler at the portrait that berated him so. It narrowly missed his father, hitting a pillar and shattering into a million pieces.

 

The fire was still blazing; it was the fire in the Gryffindor common room. There was no sign of Lucius Malfoy kempt or unkempt. Light streamed into the room and Hermione rose from the thankfully comfortable sofa, the clock on the mantle chimed once more. 9am, much later than she normally slept, but then it had been well after 2am before she had finally fallen asleep and then her sleep had been plagued with disturbing dreams.  Again oddly of Lucius Malfoy, this time it was as if, something was going to happen, but about something that had clearly already happened, but why? Ouch her head hurt, six hours’ disruptive sleep was really not conducive to analysing such complex dreams or nightmares.  She was lucky, if that were the word for it, that she could recall it all with such clarity. Her Professor was arguing with a portrait of his father about a Mudblood he was in love with. Well dreams were always seriously muddled and a little farfetched, this one really took the biscuit in the surreal steaks. Lucius Malfoy in love with a Mudblood, like that was ever going to happen. She laughed out loud at the mere notion. 

Hermione needed a shower and some breakfast to clear her decidedly addled brain, maybe some hot soapy water and some equally hot toast and marmalade, would clear her head of the weird convoluted dreams.  After that she would come back to the common room and open her presents. It wasn’t going to be much fun on her own, but at least her friends had sent her gifts. They were piled to the side of the fireplace, where Lucius Malfoy had stood.

Hermione heard what she thought was a light knock on the door to the tower.  No one that she knew had remained at the school over the holidays, she had to be imagining it. She glanced at the fire. Had she fallen asleep again and was about to visualise yet another ridiculous scenario featuring Lucius Malfoy. The knock came again, louder this time, Hermione moved nearer to the heaven wooden door, hearing footfall as someone moved away. Hermione opened the door.

The back of long dark robes and platinum hair were retreating towards the stairs. Hermione really couldn’t help but wonder if she had fallen asleep once more. Something told her she was very much awake, her fast beating heart for one thing. The fact the figure had not simply appeared in her room for two, it had knocked on the door.  It didn’t however stop her reaching out and touching the rough woollen robes as the returning figure stopped before her. She found a small, very warm smile tugging at her lips at the searching expression which crossed Lucius Malfoy’s face.  A face that was the Lucius Malfoy she knew and ..………not the tortured soul who had pervaded her final dream. Those beautiful blue grey eyes of his widened in surprise, lit from within with a softness she had not noticed before. A quizzical dark blonde brow rose, and that soft sensual mouth she had seen in sleep quirked with an unspoken question.

Hermione looked at the imposing man who stood before her as if she were seeing him for the very first time. A myriad of dreams, nightmares and emotions, coupled with realisation flooded Hermione’s brain.  She held open the door for him to enter. He did so silently, walking over the fireplace and standing at its side. Her recent dreams personified, Hermione couldn’t conceal the smile which bubbled from within.

“Miss Granger” Lucius Malfoy began. “It is, as you know, Christmas. A time for peace on earth, goodwill to all men.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted to his lips and her smile broadened, as he continued to speak, his voice all but caressed her ears. She lifted her warm brown gaze to his mesmerising grey blue eyes, finding herself drowning in their depths. The odd thing was, there was no longer any look of surprise on Lucius Malfoy’s face. An almost knowing smile lifted those wonderfully sensual lips, a happy twinkle glinted in his eyes.

Hermione couldn’t help herself. If only to make sure she wasn’t dreaming again, that the man standing before her was indeed very real. She moved across the room and to within a hair’s breadth of him. The scent she had inhaled in dreams filling her nostrils. The warmth of the fire accentuating the heady spicy fragrance of cinnamon and sandalwood.  

“Merry Christmas Lucius” She said brushing her lips lightly to those she knew would be so soft………..and so responsive.

The small quiver of surprise faded quickly as Lucius Malfoy’s arms encircled her. Pulling her gently and fully into his powerful embrace.

“Merry Christmas my love.” He whispered against her welcoming mouth.

 

 

 

 


End file.
